Of Kryptonite and Haemoglobin
by Time Locked Maniac
Summary: The Great Ones have taken notice of Earth Thirty Eight. With the Moon Presence's world as their warning of humans, they decide to send a Hunter as a precaution.
1. The Awakening

The memories of Yharnam plagued his mind, the scars fresh as spilt blood. He was one of the many Hunters Gehrman had guided along, in search of the Paleblood to cure himself of the feverish dreams he knew he could not stop.

He was an editor before the Hunter's Dream consumed him. He had little fighting instinct for all instinct he had called for his retreat. Yet he somehow managed to slay countless Beasts and Hunters, all misguided and deformed by the Old Blood.

Gehrman, however, was one he could not best. With no escape and choice, he had been greeted by the old man, and presented with two choices that would lead to his death. He could accept Gehrman's offer to die, or he could fight the First Hunter.

He had died countless times to lesser beings before just managing to best them with experience from before. He did not have this privilege then.

He recalled the face of the Doll as he knelt in the soft, moist dirt. It still held its usual smooth stoic expression, yet somehow he saw a tinge of sadness, or sorrow.

"Goodbye, Good Hunter." Gehrman muttered under his breath, as the scythe rose above his head.

Flashes of the past blinked through his mind, as he closed his eyes and waited for death. Light hearted conversations and philosophical debates that he once had with his mentor rang in his ears, and the soothing music of the ringing bells echoed in the back of his head.

He opened his eyes, and smiled at his friend. An air of solemn understanding permeated between them.

"Fear the Blood." They chorused, before the blade came down upon his neck.

That was the last he recalled of the Hunter's Dream. He woke in a hospital, startled awake from the scythe lobbing his head off his shoulders, and the beeping of the machines that greeted him unnerved him slightly. A needle was inserted into his left arm, attached to an IV bag of transparent liquid. The lack of crimson allowed him to relax, and he sunk into the warm sheets under him.

He laid in the bed and watched the frantic movement outside his window. The rapid steps and loud talking made him anxious. Noises were tell tale signs of Beasts lurking about, and he was only garbed in a thin robe that offered no resistance.

No, he reminded himself, this is the Waking World. There are no monsters and no Blood to fear. He had to consciously relax his clenched fists, and pushed himself further into the bed. The smell of antiseptic and medicine cemented this fact. Yharnam didn't have such scents. His eyebrows furrowed as he realised that his sense of smell was rather diminished, seeing how he couldn't pick up on a distinct taste of death in the air that should have been concentrated in a hospital.

A pair of women that caught his eyes walked past his room windows, and the shorter one told the taller one to stay outside, judging by how the shorter one seemed to hold her hand at the taller one. No, he chided himself as the memories of the short one surfaced, that was his mother.

She stepped into the room, and the two stared at each other for a moment.

"Hi mom." He croaked out. His voice was dry and gravelly, from disuse and thirst. Her blue eyes watered as she took swift steps to him, and threw her arms around him.

His ingrained instincts to push her away and fire his blunderbuss at her screamed against him in that particular moment, but he bit down on his tongue before raising his own arms. The very action of lifting his arms made him exhausted, and he was panting when he managed to return the hug.

His mother drew back, and her tears were stained with mascara. The way the black liquid seemed to leak out of her eyes reminded him of the Hunters he had to kill in Yharnam, and again he pushed down the reflex to fight.

"Jack." Her voice had relief wafting through, and he gave a weak smile.

* * *

His mother caught him up on what he had missed out in his coma. She still held the position she loved in CatCo, and still had issues with her secretaries, from what he could see when she talked to her newest secretary who made a few blunders.

"Mom, lay off of her. She still hasn't received your weekly schedule from your previous secretary." His deadpan expression halted any protest from his mother, before she succumbed.

"Alright fine." She stared away from him, gaze turned to the window of the limousine. Her version of a pout, a voice snickered in his mind. He gave her a small smile, before giving an apologetic smile to the secretary. Kara, if he remembered correctly.

"If she gives you any trouble just tell me and I'll sort her out." He stage whispered, and the blonde secretary gave a small laugh before being silenced by the glare given by his mother.

"And you," His mother withered under his pointed glare above his glasses, "Don't give her any unwarranted trouble missus or I will guilt trip you like never before." He raised his cane menacingly from the car seat beside him.

She uttered something under her breath but nodded regardless. His eyes softened a little as he looked at his mother. She was undoubtedly slightly bitter.

"She's a good kid mom." He lowered his voice so that only she would hear him. "And she's trying her best. Give her a chance alright?" He reached out with his hand, and only managed to squeeze her own weakly. Her hardened exterior melted slightly, but regained its sharp edge when she glared at her assistant.

"Only because you asked for her." Her clipped words tried to be authoritative, yet it held little heat, especially when he gave her a warm smile in thanks.

The limousine stopped in front of the skyscraper that was CatCo, and its CEO stepped out of the door.

"Take him back home John." She simply said to the driver, before closing the door behind her. Her secretary seemed awkward as the car started to drive off, Jack noticed.

"Sorry about mom. She's just trying to make you better, even if it seems like she hates you at times." He apologised softly between shallow breaths. His body was still unaccustomed to moving, and the earlier exchange was a strain on himself.

"Oh its no problem," she floundered when he gave a small laugh. "I just wished she wasn't so..." Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right words to use in front of her boss's son.

"Hard assed?" He offered, getting a laugh from her.

"Well, yeah." Kara's form sunk into the soft leather seat. "I just can't help but feel like I'm getting screwed over by her just for existing you know?" Her voice held a slight whining tone to it that he could empathise with. He nodded, agreeing with her.

After all, it was thanks to her intense personality that he managed to go through university, and managed to have gotten his degree in psychology and physics, even if she didn't agree with his choice of courses.

They passed by a fast food joint, and he could almost taste the food just by looking at it. The months in Yharnam had left him craving for food because of its scarcity, and now he had a way to get what he desired. He turned his eyes to Kara, and he knew she felt that something was amiss.

"Are you hungry, Ms. Denvers?"

* * *

"By the Blood." He muttered under his breath as he watched the girl in front of him devour at least ten donuts by herself. She blushed slightly when she heard him, but he didn't care and continued to stare.

"John tell me, can you finish that many in one go?" He mock whispered to the chauffeur, who was also in equal amounts of amazement. The portly old man shook his head, and the girl blushed even more.

"We must not inform Madame Grant about this," The elder gentleman spoke in amused fear, "As she would begin her pestering of Miss Denvers to pry any dieting plans from her."

Jack found himself agreeing with a chuckle that left him winded. "She would go mental."

* * *

The limousine stopped by a towering building of glass, and after his time in Yharnam, the sight of which made Jack slightly anxious. The vehicle drove off, and the two stood by the sidewalk of the road.

A cane was brought by the elderly driver, provided to and Jack leaned heavily on it as he shakily limped his way into the building. Kara had been sent a message by her boss, telling her to take the day off from the office to take care of her son, and to make sure he didn't get injured again.

He found Kara's company to be enjoyable, a luxury he could not have afforded in Yharnam. The frenzied Beasts and crazed citizens offered little consolation in his isolation. Gehrman and the Doll offered the most company, and he needed to die or use a Mark to see them.

Kara shadowed him, just to make sure he would not fall if he felt too exhausted. His entropied limbs managed to bring him to the lifts, and they waited in silence for the lift to arrive.

"What happened to you?" Kara was the first to break the silence. She flinched slightly when he glanced at her.

"I fell and hit my head." Jack said tiredly, and he knew how absurd it sounded, but it was the truth. Well, half truth, he mused, as she did not know of what he went through in the Hunter's Dream, and neither would she want to know. That would make him sound mad, and he would be sent to an asylum if he spoke of what happened to him.

"Just like that?" She expressed skepticism. He blew air softly out of his nose in slight annoyance as he bit his lip.

"Yes." He groused. He could see why his mom would torture her now. She could not hide her curiousity and doubts. Or simply put, she had no tact. But tact could be learnt, so he forced himself to be less irritated with her.

The lift doors parted, and they stepped into the small box together. He felt wary being in a small area, for it was in these circumstances where he would be ambushed by smaller Beasts, but he tried to suppress the feeling. His heart started to race, and he could feel blood rushing from his head. He saw the world swaying yet he felt nothing.

A muffled voice reached him, and he looked down to see Kara above him. No, he squinted, she was squatting besides him and he was lying on his back.

Well that's weird, he thought, he was standing earlier. The bright light above seemed blinding, and made him dizzy just before he became unconscious.

* * *

"-against my express wishes-"

"-entropy due to-"

"-take care of-"

He woke from a dreamless sleep, and felt quite groggy as he blindly groped around him. The crust in his eyes was bad enough, but the lack of glasses made his vision quite horrid.

"You're awake!" A voice boomed beside him, and he flinched at the loud noise. His arms flew to protect his face and torso, expecting an attack, but a soothing voice along with a hand stroking his back hesitantly made him less wary of a Beast.

"You're safe now. You fainted in the lift, and I had to carry you out of it." He found his glasses pressed against his hand as she continued. "The doctors said that it could be because your body isn't used to moving yet, or because your blood pressure is too low. You're on a drip-" At the mention of blood, his eyes widened and his breath quickened, and he scanned his arms for a needle. Finding one in his left arm, he tried to rip it out, but a firm hand grasped his right hand before he could.

"NO NO BLOOD BLOOD IS BAD NO NO NO NO NO NO GET IT OUT GET IT OUT NO I DON'T WANT IT NO-"

* * *

"It seems that he has a traumatic experience with blood, Miss Grant." The doctor spoke in hush tones as a mother stroked her son's unconscious face that was frozen in terror.

"We believe it may be due to the injury he had before he came in." He reasoned, but still her attention was focused on her son.

"Miss Grant?" The doctor prompted. She glared at him, and he promptly kept quiet.

Her hand stroked his face, a somber look staring at her son. She was there, and saw how he had broken down at the mere mention of blood. It was way more traumatic than anything from a simple injury, one that he couldn't even see any blood because he was knocked out before the blood flowed out of his wound.

She remembered what the doctors told her, and she remembered feeling immensely relieved that he couldn't remember that he was bleeding badly. The pool of blood that his head laid in traumatised her for weeks after the accident.

"What happened to you?"

Her whisper went unanswered, with only the drips from within the IV bag chiming in the silence.


	2. The Revelation

"-and so Superman once again saves the citizens of Metro-"

The television screen blinked into nothing.

"Don't tell me you're watching the Daily Planet again." A disappointed voice drawled out from the door. Jack tilted his head towards his mother, and gave a cheeky grin as he turned the television on with his own remote controller from beside his bed. The creases on his mother's face remained unmoving, but her exasperation was clear in her sigh. "Just remember that-"

"Don't worry, your content is far superior from the hero drivel they advertise." He interrupted her with a cheeky grin, and waved off her concerns with a nonchalant shrug, to which she just returned him with a blank gaze.

"Flattery will get you nowhere mister. Now get up. We're leaving in ten minutes." Her pointed stare lasted for a second before she left. The smirk on his face melted into a blank expression, and his eyes turned towards an inconspicuous notebook on his bed beside him. Inside contained all the notes he made about Yharnam, the Old Blood and the Hunter's Dream that he could remember. Each entry was made with a hideous clarity. He absolutely despised the book, but he kept it close to himself at all times, just to make sure it would never fall into the wrong hands. The science of blood definitely differed in terms of actual logic and the lack of eldritch beings, but if it ever leaked out that he had been under such a traumatic dream whilst in a supposed coma with no prior record of schizophrenia, his mother's company that she spent most of her life building would be shattered just from rumours alone.

His hand reached for the cane leaning against the head of the bed, and the comforting surface of the wooden cane calmed his mind. The familiar weight distracted him from the thoughts of the Dream as he hobbled onto his feet, his body shaking slightly. His legs shouldn't have deteriorated this badly for him to require a cane, but the fall that indirectly caused his trauma had also lead to one of the lower limbs to have internal bleeding, and from what the doctors told him, the surgeon that operated on him assumed that there was an fat embolism in a vein deep within the thigh, and cut out a chunk of muscle to prevent further muscle death. It was a hasty decision as he was losing too much blood and at the verge of necrosis in his leg, and he could understand why it was done. He may have been recovering, but it was still inconvenient to walk.

Now he understood why Gehrman sat in his wheelchair all day. A sentimental smile creeped its way onto his face and he recalled the time he mocked Gehrman for being a cripple. It had been done in jest, but the Doll took offense. It was a trying moment as he and his mentor attempted to explain whilst chuckling at the Doll's pure ignorance, but it was still entertaining nonetheless.

He took only a dozen steps, but his body tired easily, and his thin frame rested upon the doorframe as his chest heaved.

He could almost see Gehrman in front of him wearing a small smirk as he took shallow breaths.

What a jerk.

Despite his attempts at persuading his mother, Jack could not stop her from bringing him around like a chihuahua for the past few months. It made him feel a little puny, but he understood her reasons for doing so. Thankfully she mostly stayed in her office so he could wander about the office and watch the terrified employees of CatCo watch him watch them. It honestly felt a little refreshing that people would fear him for once, despite the singular reason being his mom. The nice assistant that was there when he woke from his coma stood up from her desk, and stepped out of her desk-

"Kerah!"

'Kara.' He rolled his eyes as the anxious assistant came into the room, shuffling her feet on the carpet as she did so.

"Yes Miss Grant?" She stammered slightly as she approached the CEO's desk.

"I shall say this once and only once," Jack's eyes rolled at his mother's melodramatic start. "Change your cheap clothes. You're not some broad working for a pimp on the streets. If you want to continue working here I would suggest going shopping. Soon." She shooed the young girl out of the with a small wave before continuing on her paperwork. The blustering secretary did not have a chance to even ask questions, and he pitied her slightly.

"Mom, you're going to fire her because of her **pants**?" His incredulous voice was just soft enough for his mother to hear, and Cat Grant looked up to see incredulous disappointment.

"If she wants to be my secretary she shall dress the part. I will not accept some dull country girl sitting at that desk and pretend that she has made it in life just by being my assistant." Her reply was equally as soft, but twice as firm.

He couldn't fault that logic, a secretary did reflect on their boss, and as the owner and sole founder of CatCo, the image of Cat Grant held more importance to her than a girl with a bad taste in fashion. His eyes glanced to the table closest to the office, and he could see the poor girl tearing up at her desk. Pity wrecked in his mind. After all she did for him, he felt that the situation was far too unfair for the assistant outside who looked as if she was about to openly weep.

A sigh escaped his lips as he stood up.

"Where is it do you think you're going?" The stern and strict voice of his mother made him pause slightly, but he regained his gait and continued limping.

"Saving your image." He quipped as he gestured for Kara to follow him. To his surprise, she did not say any more, and simply stayed silent as he stepped into the elevator. There was an awkward silence between them as she sniffled, and dried her tears.

"Um, thanks for that." Kara spoke up after they exited the building. He gave her a small smile and a nod, and held up a hand at her as he paused to catch his laboured breath. His vision of her blurred slightly, and the architecture of glass and steel warped into wood and cobblestone momentarily. He shook his head, and his sight turned right after a second.

"No problem." He wiped the sweat off his forehead, before giving her outfit a pointed look.

"She doesn't want you wearing your… jeans or slacks. She wants you to look professional, while maintaining a casual presence in her office. You're overtly casual now Kara, and that is not a good image for the CEO of any company." A smirk grew on his face as a fleeting terror graced the assistant's face.

"Oh yes, we're going shopping." Sadistic glee filled his eyes, and it created shivers that begun creeping its way down her neck.

"How about this?" She shuffled out from the dressing room, and twirled around in a short navy blue skirt. Jack gave a small hum, taking his time to appraise her outfit before he gave a nod of approval with a small thumbs up. She let loose an exaggerated sigh of relief that was met with an amused gaze as she went back into the changing room to change back to her clothes. The literal pile of tried garments sat on a stool inside, just reaching her hip, and she had to lean against the wall of the rather small room to take off the skirt.

Despite her initial unwillingness to go shopping for clothes with him, mostly because she didn't want to play dress up for someone she didn't know intimately, she found it fun and somewhat educational. In the past two hours, she learnt about how formal wear could be mixed with informal wear to retain a professional yet casual look, and how she should avoid wearing bright colours when around her boss, aka his mom, to make sure that attention would be focused on the CEO instead of herself, amongst other things.

He was actually quite nice to her, she mused as she pulled up her pants, and taught her a lot even if he didn't have to. That and he was helping her keep the job that she just managed to get with a recommendation from her boss at Midvale Newspaper. She didn't lose her job, she got to hang out with someone she considered as one of her only friends, and she got to try and buy new clothes. All in all, it wasn't a bad day, although it could have started with Miss Grant not insulting her first thing in the morning.

The sound of wooden tapping lightly on the parquet floor echoed in the quiet house. In the darkness, he could see everything, so it was not a surprise to him when his mother spoke up from beside him.

"You care so much about my assistant. Why is that?"

Her fierce tone would have been enough to quell him last year, before the accident, but after his time in the Hunter's Nightmare, it was only sufficient to make him glance at her. He ignored her question, and limped his way into the kitchen. The impatient tapping of feet behind him drew no response, and his hands moved to prepare himself a cup of tea. A flip of a switch signalled the descend of light that blinded him for a moment.

"Why are you doing this to me?" A sudden change in her voice made him pause. He turned to face his mother, and his eyes could watch the tears trailing down her face. The stoic son brought up the cup, with the other hand holding a saucer below it, gathering his thoughts before he spoke.

"In that coma, I was not sleeping. I did not have a peaceful time, and in that hell I witnessed the worst of horrors any man could even imagine." The quiet revelation washed over her, as her son leaned on the counter to face her. His eyes held no mirth nor humour, and a sudden maturity unveiled itself onto his features. He let loose a melancholic sigh. "I died over a million times in six months, and when I woke all I could think of is how grateful I am for you and Carter." The soft reminiscing made her feel loved, for once in the past year. Her son took a sip from the cup in his hand, and the nostalgia in his eyes dissipated. All that was left made her freeze.

The black irises of her son turned blood red under the bright lighting. A black coat superimposed itself over his figure, and the cane that rested against the mahogany counter gained a dangerous glint. Blood was oozing from his body, grey diseased flesh mutating itself onto-

It all disappeared just before she turned away in disgust. Having seen an imposing aura over his frail form, Cat Grant knew that her son became something… different.

"... I see." He rested the cup onto the counter, and moved towards her. Each step he took made no noise, and yet she could hear the thunderous clap when his sole touched the floor, his breathing becoming more ragged with every step.

His arms wrapped itself around her, but he kept a distance between them in the hug.

"I'm sorry mom, I really am." He pulled back slightly, and it was only in such a close proximity did she see the unshed tears. "I just wanted you to change. I wanted you to be better. I wanted you to be the mom I never had however hard that may be."

A sob started to shake his body as he cried in her arms.

"I'm so sorry mom, I'm so so sorry…"

"It's my fault. Not your's."

She tightened her arms around him. She never noticed that she started weeping herself.


	3. The Inferno

It was pure coincidence. Yes, she reaffirmed the thought to herself, purely coincidental. He was sitting in front of her, two tables away, typing fervently on his laptop, eyes never wavering from the screen. He lived about five blocks away from this particular cafe that she frequented, and he would be at the office around this particular time.

Her attention returned to him when he finished typing with a particularly interesting flourish of his right hand. Her gaze lingered as he picked up his porcelain cup of coffee, and then his eyes met hers. She flinched away, but he rose his mug in acknowledgement before his black pupils drifted away from her.

Her cheeks grew warm when she realised she had been watching him for a prolonged period of time, and she had lost track of time just by looking at him. She returned her gaze to her own cup hastily, embarrassment sprouting in her chest. Her mind admonished herself for staring, yet she found her eyes drifting back to him. The laptop's display was shut, and he was in the middle of a particularly large swig. The way his throat moved as he swallowed made her more aware of how dry her own throat suddenly felt, and so she took a sip from the blend of bitter and sweet.

"Hi." An amused voice rang out from in front of her, surprising her. A yelp made its way out of her lips. The chuckle that that followed did nothing to ease her raging blush. Jack invited himself to her table, sitting just in front of her. A brown suitcase that contrasted his black attire was set down beside his chair. Their gazes continued to be interlocked as he rested his chin on his right palm.

"What a coincidence," He finally spoke, the prior elevated tone dulling down into a monotonous flat voice. "The first day I get off from work is one I run into you." His eyes wandered to her right, and she had to force herself to not turn around to look at whatever it was that caught his attention. "You aren't stalking me, are you?" The sudden teasing made her face flush, and his grin was a testament to how he was unaware of the embarrassment she was feeling.

She really was a stalker, a dim realisation hit. She knew his everyday routine by heart, having seen him go through the motions for the past few months. Ms Grant also had her follow her son around whenever she couldn't do so herself to ensure his safety for the initial weeks during his recovery, and she interacted with him for long enough to know him. Strangely, she could not seem to forget trivial details of him. Whenever she saw something interesting, a small voice would wonder if he would like it in the back of her mind. It only happened on several occasions, yet each time stuck with her.

Her cheeks warmed with greater intensity as she saw that the coffee they had were an identical shade of milky brown. His eyes concentrated back on her, curious about her suddenly crimson cheeks, but he chose not to comment on it, and instead took another sip.

"So how are you going to spend your day off?" It was an unexpected question that threw her off. He wanted to change topics, as he saw how he had made her uncomfortable with his prior teasing. Her heart clenched slightly at that thought.

"I was just going to go shopping after this, get some gifts for my family." The words just flowed out without intending to, but it felt right to share with him. The teasing she was expecting didn't occur, and his eyes gained a slight sheen as they went back to looking elsewhere. His face suddenly turned melancholic, as he stared into nothing.

"I could spend the day with you." She found herself offering her company, and he quirked an eyebrow at the sudden invitation. It felt hard not to fidget under his intense stare.

"Coming on a little direct there." His mild amusement shone through his teasing, and the loneliness that was palpable dissipated as he quirked an eyebrow in contemplation. Nervous energy vibrated within her as he mulled over it. Each second passed by slowly, and she could almost see the gears turning in his head as he considered the offer.

"Well, Mom's going to be occupied at work later." He mumbled, but her super hearing caught the words. The black eyes that unnerved her went back to staring into her own. A small smile grew on him.

"Sure."

* * *

I am never going shopping with you again." Her exasperated voice made him chuckle. He knew that the sight of numerous paper bags adorning his arms drew the eyes from the crowd on the street, but he focused his attention in front of him and kept his gaze on Kara. The crowd was suffocating to deal with, as his instincts honed in Yharnam to lash out screamed at him to fight. In the Dream, attention on him meant that Beasts were coming. But this isn't the dream anymore, Jack reminded himself, relax before you get a panic attack. He took a few deep breaths to ease himself, the unsettling feeling of being in the open turning just slightly more bearable.

"Stop lying, you love it." He tried to give a small smile. "And your taste in fashion is absolutely horrendous. You hoard anything that has blue. You should be grateful that I'm helping you."

She turned around, curled lips parted to retort when her eyes widened. Her arm extended and pulled him into an alley. The comfort of being away from the many eyes overwhelmed him. His body felt limp, and he could feel his already weakened facade break down further as he slumped against the wall.

"You okay?" Her concerned tone made him feel vulnerable and weak. "You're pale." A wave of nausea washed through him when he realised how tightly his fists were clenched, and how the cold sweat dripped onto his shirt.

"Yeah, just give me a second. Not good around crowds." He hated how he had become so weak, how the presence of people alone would make him physically sick.

"What happened?" The soft voice that pierced the noise of the city streets made him look up, and his vision quivered slightly when he recalled being cornered by Beasts and those infected by the Old Blood. The Nightmare overlapped reality for a moment, and Kara's form flickered to that of Eileen's. His suddenly dry throat made it hard to swallow.

"Bad things." She couldn't know the truth. He couldn't speak of the truth. "It's gotten better now, but it used to be worse. I couldn't even walk in the open without breaking down completely a few months back, which is kinda why Mom asked you to follow me around when she couldn't." A weak laughter escaped him, and he felt even more pathetic when her hand reached out to him. He flinched slightly when she touched her shoulder, his mind's eye betraying his instincts. Her hand withdrew, and an awkward silence descended. But she stayed with him.

It took him a few seconds to collect himself, although it felt like hours. "Thanks." He muttered. She gave him a small smile and took the bags from his shaking hands.

"Don't overexert yourself alright?" Her encouraging voice helped him feel a little less feeble, and he managed to stop himself from shaking. "Come on, let's head back before you find out how bad my taste in clothing really is." He guessed that her joking intended to help lighten the mood, and he was grateful for that.

"It can't be any worse than it already is." He managed to find it in him to go along with her.

Her smile grew wider.

* * *

That memory repeated itself in his head in the following nights, always ending with that vivid smile. A strange confusion laced with longing poisoned his thoughts. Ever since that day, he found himself drawn to Kara. A quick glance at her whenever she wasn't looking or a stray thought of how she was doing would frustrate him for hours.

Why?

Why was she so prominent in his thoughts? It consumed him, and despite being frustrated with it, he felt a warmth permeate his chest when they exchanged passing smiles at work, or when they had a small chat in the evenings. It was soothing, genuine and lovely. Did he have a crush on her? He probably did, and that day served to build what was a potential emotional bond between them that made him feel this way.

But she deserved better. Someone not as damaged as him. Someone better than him.


	4. From Ashes

A seemingly innocent leather-bound notebook sat on his desk, opened to a particularly blank page titled 'Caryll Runes'.

These were the words of the Great Ones, and he did not know what would happen if it became written into the Waking World. Would it draw the attention of the Great Ones? Would he be condemned back into the Hunter's Dream?

It scared him, yet he had to know, for the Hunter's Rune kept itself in the forefront of his mind for the past week. It had to be the workings of a Great One, but a Great One, no matter which it was, definitely had the power to send itself into the Waking World, even if it didn't have the Blood to use as a medium.

He idly scratched the paper with a nail, contemplating his options.

The Rune held much significance to him, as he had saved the Hunter that taught him the sacred scripture, as well as saving him on numerous occasions. He met her outside of combat, and found her pleasant, even having had a full conversation with her on a single occasion. It may seem vain, but he treasured the moments in the Dream that did not involve any bloodshed.

He regretted wearing her badge in Yharnam, as it felt like he was dishonouring her honour and past. He was never as good as her, and he only managed to save her because he had slightly faster reflexes. And he never actually saw any Hunters after he last saw her, bar Gehrman. He grimaced slightly at the reminder of his most recent death.

A chattering of bones synonymous with the Messengers made him frowned before he turned to see a single Messenger that had a worn out top hat on its head.

His mind blanked out before he saw a single Blood Vial in its hands.

The Blood returned, and with it, the nightmares.

He whimpered as the beasts closed in. The screams and cries of the people clawing at his ears, ripping his heart out as he recalled all the dying people he had to leave behind.

" _Make it end, make it end, make it end, make it end, make it end, make it end, please someone make it end."_

His rocking form on the ground let lose another cry when the Messenger approached him. A single bony hand rested itself on his arm, and the plague filled streets of Yharnam that transitioned slowly into his room vanished from his vision. It gently rested the Vial besides him, and gave his arm a hug before vanishing into a mist of blood.

He stared at the Vial, and on the glass vial cork, a small inscription of words was written on a note tied to it. He gingerly picked it up, careful not to drop it or touch the cork, and read the words.

 _ **For your future endeavours. This Blood was not from the Great Ones, but refined from various Hunters seeking to purify the Blood from the Healing Church. This Blood does not have the risk of the Blood from Yharnam. This World needs a Hunter. -A Friend**_

The words were comforting and written in a cursive script that he recognised from Yharnam, yet the words seemed to hold a truth that was strange compared to the crazed citizens of the diseased land. However, if he were to return to the life of a Hunter, he would be cursed with the Hunter's Dream once more.

The vivid memories of the Doll and Gehrman made him calm down a little from the fear instilled by the Blood. The Dream came with the Nightmare, so he might find solace in the Dream once more. He took a breath to catch himself

Furthermore, Gehrman was the First Hunter. His mentor. If he became the First Hunter of the Waking World, he would be technically inheriting that title.

But the pain of being a Hunter would forever haunt him. He was already at the risk of developing schizophrenia, with his Post Traumatic Stress from the Dream alone affecting him more than he had let on to his mother and friends. Every time something reminded him of Yharnam, he had to clamp down the instinct to scream and run, or blindly swing his cane around. Being a Hunter once again may prove to be his downfall into insanity.

But the Blood also held rejuvenating properties, along with allowing him to protect the ones he loved from any threats. A vision of his mother and adorable brother being threatened by a beast overlayed his vision, and he snarled. The plethora of supervillains out in public terrorising normal people held dozens in their ranks, and they often came in droves that Superman managed to stave off. What if one of them decided to terrorise National City, and threatened his family?

That settled the debate, he decided. He would go through hell again if it meant that his family would never get to suffer.

Pulling out the cork, he fully expected the foul scent of Blood. Yet all he could smell was a clean crisp ocean-like scent. Bringing the vial to his lips, he hesitated once, before knocking back the contents of the glass bottle into his mouth.

A gasp let loose from his lips, as his limbs regained their vigour, the loose skin that just seconds ago barely clung to his bones grew tight and taut. Electricity streamed into his body, and his nerves turned extremely sensitive for but a second. The sensation of air brushing against his skin tingled, before vanishing completely.

He flexed his arm, and for the first time since he awoke from the Dream, he felt strong.

His body turned into a haze of blood that soon reformed back into his corporeal form across the room. An involuntary grin crept its way up onto his face as a familiar euphoria flooded his veins.

He never realised that the single rune scratched into the paper melted into nonexistence.

* * *

Cat Grant was many things, and unobservant never touched that list. So she definitely saw a visible change in her elder son's demeanour, physique and attitude. Gone was the fear and constant look of agony on his face, and it was replaced with pride and confidence. The simple T shirts and jeans that he usually wore stayed hidden in his wardrobe, and in place of his old outfit a leather vest and a pair of thick leather trousers became his standard garb. She did not buy the garments for him, neither did she ever recall him ever purchasing them in the past, so the clothing did not make sense to her.

The cane that he relied on also changed. The new cane was old and almost rusted, the metal had pits and cracks in it, and the wooden handle held a brown crust on it, and it seemed to almost flake off when she inspected it.

She allowed her son to have his privacy, and pushed her curiousity deep down into the deep recesses of her mind. She touched the surface his broken self that night, and what she managed to glimpse scared her more than anything. She saw the eyes of a war veteran, she saw loneliness and despair like no other in her son. It frightened her, that her son would be mentally scarred and unstable after a coma that she felt responsible for. It was her lackadaisical attitude to his safety that caused the accident that knocked him out. Her guilt compiled with her protective nature made her afraid of what happened to him, and afraid of touching him. Her actions brought that upon him, the anger, the vicious agony, the festering sadness within all brought by her.

Her eyes spotted a hole in the wooden floor. It looked as if a blade was stabbed into it.

No questions. Cat Grant forced herself to look away. Not questions. She forcefully crushed her curiousity.

Tears fell.

No questions.

For his sake.

* * *

"So what are you going to do today?" It would seem like a casual question for most, but for Kara Denvers, the one who asked seemed to be probing her mind. With that intense gaze of his, how could she not assume that he had other motives? But her experience with him taught her that he was merely curious, and that the intimidating look that he had was just an inherent attribute of his.

"I got on some online dating website." She tried to give a nonchalant shrug as he snorted in amusement. "There's this guy who has an eighty two percent compatibility rate with me, and we agreed to meet today." He continued to wear a smirk as she flushed. "Don't patronise me mister 'I-never-dated-anyone'." Her light punch that was rightfully given was incredibly light by her standards. His arm would have been otherwise pulverised if she hadn't, and she would lose her job as Cat Grant's secretary, and probably get sued over obliterating her son's arm.

He gave another shrug as he went back to his laptop across her desk. "Dating websites are overrated. People aren't all they advertise themselves to be on their profiles, and they never mention their own flaws because they're afraid they would scare potential lovers away, before those very things come back and bite them in the ass when the other finds out." He gave a small frown, and his nose upturned slightly, making it resemble a button. "Actually, if your profile has a single slightly embarrassing detail about you that most of the populace has, you could technically increase your chances significantly and find someone who relates to you more and thus make things easier in the friend to lover stage." His lips quickly quirked into a cheeky grin as his eyebrows wiggled, prompting a laughter out of her. "Maybe that's all you need to find that someone on some dating website." His eyes held a measure of mirth to them as they focused back on the laptop's screen.

"And there is no algorithm that can quantify emotions. Dating websites aren't that reliable." Winn spoke up from beside her, putting in his opinion.

Jack hummed, and she knew he disagreed from the upturn of the corner of his lips. "You can't quantify it but you can certainly tweak it to suit you more, however slight through emotional biases from the information you give." Winn immediately swore under his breath, and her ears caught the words. They weren't nice at all, and the IT technician flinched when he saw the frown on her face. Jack looked up over his glasses at him, seemingly unaware of the exchange, and shrugged as he said: "Psychology works better than programs or algorithms about seventy four percent of the time, and I did a study on this with social engineering. You better step up your bite IT man." A friendly taunt that brought a small look of shame on Winn's face. Winn opened his mouth to speak, but Kara's ears heard instead her boss complaining about the smell in the elevator.

"She's here." She breathed to her friends as she stood from her chair. A quick glance confirmed that she did get a large latte as requested. The lift doors parted revealing the relatively short blonde woman with sunglasses on. Kara dutifully followed behind her as she walked into her large walled off office, with Jack following closely behind her, limping with his cane.

"The only reason why I bought this building was because it had a private elevator. That way I don't have to get soaked in cheap cologne every morning getting to my office. Find out who used it and get them out of my office, reprimanded or bathed I don't care which." Thank goodness she was used to the tone of her boss's sassy and almost passive aggressive voice.

"Here's your latte. Hot." She held out the coffee for her boss to take. She could Cat Grant judging her clothing, but seeing as her son who picked out her casual office wear of a collared fleece and an appropriate skirt that brought out her blue eyes was there, she could not comment. Instead, she chose to comment on her assistant in general.

"That would be new and different." Her boss muttered under her breath as she took the cup, and her X-Ray vision told her of eyes criticising her outfit.

"Speaking of new and different," Jack managed to interject, glancing at her in concern, but she dismissed him with a quick shake of her head when her boss turned to look at him. "Jimmy Olsen is here and he has your layouts ready. He's also the one who wore that cologne."

The mother stayed quiet for a few moments before nodding to her son, who promptly left the two alone. After seeing how intimate Cat Grant could be with Jack Grant, Kara felt a little surprised at the levels of professionalism they had whilst at work. But then again, nepotism never happened in the company, and everyone within knew how hard Jack had to work to get a job as an editor for the Science column of CatCo.

"I have a meeting with the board today at lunch. Call off lunch with my mother, and my therapist. I won't be needing my therapist if I'm not having lunch with my mother." Her pen flew across her notebook, all of her concentration on her boss's schedule changes.

"Got it."

"Also, I emailed you a list. Prepare termination letters for the Tribune employees as noted, but it would be so nice if you hand wrote them. Use the lesser card stock if you can."

She felt outraged for those employees, but after working for Ms Grant for a more than a year, Kara knew that asking questions would get her nowhere. Plus she could always ask Jack about what his mother's motives were. But the fact that she was so carefree and emotionless about the first department that she built as well as the livelihoods of all those poor employees that were going to have to find new jobs bothered her.

"It's not that I don't see your frown, it's just that I don't care enough to ask why it's there." Again with the callous attitude. She must have had seen the subtle frown that grew, but the fact that she commented on that was evidence that she cared enough to note the change in her expression. She bit her lower lip to hold back whatever that would have came out, and apologised before turning around.

"You're a good kid, but you can't save the Trib Kara." A soft voice just small enough to be heard by her sensitive ears made her heart wrench. Despite the cold exterior, it seems that she really did care for the Tribune.

As she walked out of Cat's office, Jack stopped her and dragged her to the corner just in front of the office, past the glass walls. His darkened eyes told her that he knew how she was feeling, and she would be lying if she said that she didn't feel relieved that someone understood how she was feeling.

"Mom just told you that she's going to downsize the Tribune didn't she." He held up a hand to stop her from speaking, and waited for her to close her mouth, which she reluctantly did. "She was tearing herself apart at home about this, but she had to be logical. The Tribune has eight of the highest payrolls on there, and all of them have been with her for years, but the fact is they just cannot compete with what The Daily Planet is producing." His teeth bit gently on his lower lip as he gazed out of the window. "News about Superman flying gets more attention than news about a disaster in the fashion industry Kara, that's the harsh truth." His eyes softened, and in them she saw her reflection stare sadly back.

"Take the day off, and write the letters before preparing for your date." He abruptly ended off with an awkward shoulder pat, before he walked off. Despite the nature of the action, she couldn't help but grin slightly as she watched him limp back to the table they both shared as separate desks.

He was awkward with small signs of physical affection that he initiated, and mainly relied on his barbed tongue or his quick wits to react in social situations, but it was in rare cases such as these did she gain a glimmer of who he was. Most of their coworkers had juicy bits of gossip about them, that they were lovers behind Miss Grant's back, or something even worse, but she knew that there was nothing between them. After all, if there were any feelings for her, he wouldn't have given her advice on online dating. The tiny tinge in her heart went ignored as she packed.

* * *

She didn't feel like going on a date. After hand writing four of the eight termination letters, she felt too emotional to go on a silly date. She sent a message to DanRa46 that she couldn't go for the date, but he never replied and she felt worse after finishing the last letter. The emotional burden weighed on her mind heavily, bringing her mood into dark places.

Her form slumped onto her sofa, as she stared at the ceiling. The couple upstairs were at it again, and she had to avert her eyes and put on earpieces to block out the activity happening upstairs.

She felt a little jealous of the couple. They were about her age, yet they found love quickly. They had few arguments, and those were solved incredibly cordially, and ideally. She found herself drawn to eavesdropping on their everyday lives just to gain a sense of how love would be like.

She turned on her side and stared at her phone on the coffee table. She was feeling lonely, and she felt like going out with someone, but her sister was leaving to Geneva soon, so her friends were her only options left, but Winn mentioned that he had a concert to go to. That left Jack, as one of her close friends that she assumed would be free during the evening. He would appreciate the time to hang out, right? But then, she would have to tell him how she felt, mostly because she didn't have much emotional restraint, and that would make him feel obligated to meet up with her to make her feel better. Yet despite feeling that it would be manipulative of her should she tell him, she knew that he would say otherwise, and give her a stern look before giving her a dozen donuts to help her calm down, all the while assuring her that she was not guilt tripping him into doing things for her. Her hand reached for her phone.

* * *

The sounds of seagulls and crashing waves under the docks were almost drowned out by a party on the pier close by. His eyes scanned the thinning crowds of people for his friend, and the dirty dyed blonde hair that he was familiar with couldn't be spotted from a distance. He sniffed and tried a tactic he learnt from the Hunter's Dream. The unique scent of her mint shampoo combined with, strangely, donuts, was faint amongst the other aromas that lingered around him, but he caught it nonetheless and followed to where it was stronger. A particular outfit stood out amongst the people garbed in casual wear, and the slightly formal dress paired with a dull navy blue jacket stood out rather well. She had also been looking for him and raised her hand when she caught sight of him. He quickened his pace and caught up with her.

"Sorry for asking you out so late." Kara's voice felt a tone softer than usual, which brought his attention from the sidewalk ahead to her. She looked slightly more dishevelled than normal, now that he was closer, and she told him over the phone that she felt in the dumps after writing the letters. As the one who suggested to her to write the letters first, he felt bad that he made her miss out on her date, and miss out on a potential boyfriend. But he kept his mouth shut on that, for he saw no need to give her the idea that he was interested in her romantically to mess with her mind.

"It's alright." He chose to simply say, giving her a reassuring smile instead. She returned his smile with a smaller one, one that seemed weak. He needed to distract her thoughts from work to something lighter. His eyes glanced around before a small stall caught his attention. His hand reached out and grabbed her's. She looked confused for a moment, but the same stall caught her eyes too. He laughed at her change in expression and tugged her towards it. The aroma of fried donuts lingered around the food stall mingled with the scent of vanilla, which made his, and undoubtedly her, mouth water. When they were close enough, Kara pressed her face against the glass and stared at the variety of donuts behind the glass wistfully.

"Two for you and your boyfriend?" The owner's amused voice turned his friend into a babbling mess. He snorted and shook his head.

"I wish." He joked before a look of understanding dawned on the middle-aged man behind the counter. The two shared a small nod of manly empathy, and before Kara could question them, exchanged money and donuts. The everpresent weight on his chest felt more significant as he led her away.

"Hey what was that about? Hey Jack. Jack!" Her attempts at interrogation failed as he ushered her to the side of the docks as he waved her questions aside, and leaned against the railings on the dock. He could hear her sigh of frustration but closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing. His ears picked up the sounds of waves crashing against the wood below, and for once he felt at peace with himself. With his powers back, and the ability to relax without fear of any Beasts attacking him, the tension he endured for the past few months dissipated.

"Don't you dare faint on me. Miss Grant will kill me if anything happened to you." Her voice, while joking, was laced with concern. He opened an eye, and the sunset blinded him momentarily. Blinking away the bright light, he turned to Kara, who was looking at him with an expression of amusement.

"Nah, she'll just find a way to revive me before killing me herself." He frowned at that. "Actually, she really would if she could, to be fair." He mused. His friend gave a snort at that but agreed with him nonetheless.

"She'll probably get 'Kerah' to get her morning latte first." She imitated his mother's haughty actions, and the uncanniness between imitation and reality made him grin.

The two shared a laugh together as they relaxed on the pier. A comfortable silence descended between them, allowing them to take small bites from the warm confectionary. The music booming from the side was a suitable distraction for him, giving him somewhere to look without feeling too out of place.

"So…" Kara's voice trailed off, and he turned back to look at her. She had long finished her donut, and one of her hands was fidgeting with her hair, tucking loose strands behind her ear.

"So?" He prompted her to continue. Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes quickly averted themselves from him. Her hand, which was still interlaced with his until then, drew back quickly. The feeling of warmth lingered for a little while.

"Nothing." Her soft voice was only barely heard by him, but he heard it nonetheless. In his mind, he knew that she wanted to say something in a heat of the moment, whatever that moment was. The prospects of which his imagination dove into about what she wanted to say made him nervous, but he pushed the feeling aside. She didn't need him to complicate her life any more than their friendship had already done.

He tried giving a non-committal shrug, but he felt that it came off more as awkward instead.

The sun had fully set by then, and the lights switched on simultaneously. The artificial white light in the darkness made the world feel cold while emphasising the burden within him, he realised. Without the sun or candles to bring warmth, he felt the same sensation when he first awoke in the hospital in Yharnam. Afraid and alone, with nothing familiar around him bring dread into his soul as he hyperventilated. Frost crept into his heart, and the lack of meaning in life swept away his rational thought. After all, what meaning did life have for him when all he could think off was the excruciating pain, the crushing despair and agonising loneliness?

He was barely aware of the eyes that all turned to him as one as he collapsed against the railing with tears welling up in his eyes. His head felt light, a sign of hyperventilation that he felt frequently, a miniscule part of him that was still coherent commented.

"Jack-" Her voice was cut off when he abruptly stood up and limped away. The sensation of sandpaper in his throat tore at his senses as he tried to take even breaths and choking back his sobs. A primal instinct to run away from danger brought him home, but his mind still felt muddled with fear and distraught. He couldn't tell if time had even passed, but all he wanted was to return to his comfort zone of his bed.

* * *

The covers over him made him feel warm again, but the dreaded spikes in his heart from the isolation still remained. Shaky breaths were taken before he felt more composed. One final breath allowed for rational thought to seep back. It only then did he realise he essentially abandoned Kara. That particular thought made him guilty, and he reminded himself that he needed to apologise to her. He sighed, but even the sigh felt forced. He didn't want to deal with anything, he decided.

A knock came from the door outside his room, and he was reluctant to leave his bed, but a familiar voice from outside that called made his guilt outweigh the grip on his heart. Dragging his heavy feet to the door, the eyes that stared at him when he opened it made him feel worse about himself.

"You alright?" Just looking at her made his heart wrench again, and he had to take a breath to compose himself before he shook his head.

"No, I just had to…" His tongue slid out to moisten his dry, cracked, bleeding lips, and he opened the door fully to let her enter the apartment. "I just had a mini breakdown and it does not feel good." He let out a nervous laughter as she stepped through the doorway. He ran a hand through his hair as he walked to the kitchen to get some beverages. His senses told him that Kara was following him closely behind while maintaining a comfortable distance between them, but he was more focused on the fact that he had to act normal in front of her, so as to not make her feel worse.

"I'm sorry." He wasn't sure if his voice had been heard, but the shuffling of feet behind him followed by a warm embrace told him that she had. The warmth was not unpleasant, albeit out of place. He opened his mouth to say more, but a sob choked his words. Tears threatened to fall, as he felt the weight of the world fall upon him.

He wanted to be the son his mother deserved. He wanted to be the editor he hoped for. He wanted a relationship that he so covertly desired. He wanted to stop with the act of being a cripple and walk freely. He wanted the nightmares to stop. He wanted the Dream to be forgotten. But he knew he couldn't do all of these, yet he kept trying to achieve all of them simultaneously.

A soothing voice as well as the palm that was rubbing gently against his back only served to make him more distraught, and the wails tore at his throat as he wept freely.

* * *

"Thanks Kara." His voice was weak, his palms cradled a cup of warm tea, and she gave him a reassuring smile.

"No problem." Her own hands held her own cup of tea, and she gently set it on the coffee table in between them. He bit his lower lip, and averted his eyes away from her in shame. The television that played the news managed to give him enough distraction from what had happened earlier. The sense of vulnerability remained within, but he knew that he could trust her.

"Can I say something?" Kara's voice suddenly held a soft, hesitant tone. He looked up, and saw that she had shrunken into the sofa, her form curled up with her knees held against her knees. He gave a small nod.

"I'm an… alien." Her voice wavered a little.

He had not been expecting that. Alien, huh?

"Do you have two hearts?" She gave a weak nervous laugh, and now it was his turn to support her, even if her story seemed absurd to him. After all, he had a really fucked up dream of killing humans mutated into beasts during his coma.

"No, that's the Doctor." Her smile melted away, leaving a strained look in her eyes. "I'm from the planet Krypton. It exploded, and killed everyone on the planet except for me and my cousin." He nodded, and nudged her to continue. "Yeah, he's Superman."

He took a double take, and set down his own cup of tea. "So you're technically Super Cousin? That's a weird name." He stated matter of factly.

A boisterous laugh burst from her, the unexpected joke catching her off guard, and he soon joined in on the chortling. She wheezed, before catching her breath.

"No, I am not Super Cousin. Super Woman sounds better." She countered.

"But Super Cousin has your backstory explained in your name." He whined. "You get to have your backstory explained before you even have to open your mouth, and you'll still be kickass." He argued.

"No, that sounds stupid. And just because it sounds stupid, no." Her glare made him mock grumble under his breath.

He opened his mouth but she brought his cup of tea to his mouth. In less than a second. To his credit, he only screamed in terror in reflex. But he decided to continue after he realised it was just him. He could see her eyes roll at his melodrama as he crawled on his back in mock horror, but she played along and stalked him menacingly after setting the cup om the table.

"Save me from the Vulcan!" He pretended to shout in fear as he tried to push her away, but he could feel her overpowering him as he feebly tried to maintain the distance between them.

"Roar." Her monotonous, yet amused voice drone out as she poke him in the side, making him jolt from the stimulant. She collapsed on top of him, both laughing at their own silly antics.

In the back of his mind, a voice told him that it was the perfect moment to start an intimate moment, and it was his chance to start something with a simple action. His heart lurched at that thought. It was all or nothing. And since nothing was already hurting him, it wouldn't hurt to try. His arm moved around her whilst she was still giggling. He didn't miss how she flinched, but she didn't comment as he held her in an embrace.

He knew that it all hinged on her then, and if she chose to back out of it, he would understand. His anxiety crawled back into his mind, making him nervous, and he could feel his own heartbeat turn rapid and blaring against his eardrums.

A moment of silence passed, as she laid on top of him, unmoving. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Another moment. His pulse raced, and he could feel palpitations in his ears.

She didn't say anything, and it made him nervous. The long drawn out quiet between them was only interrupted by the news, saying that a plane headed to Geneva was circling the city with a burning turbine.

"My sister's on that plane." Kara immediately stood up, getting out of the impromptu hug quickly. "I should go, um, save the plane." She ran for the door, and he could feel disappointment, as well as despair creeping back into his heart as the only person he could connect to left. She didn't reciprocate his feelings. Which was fine. It wasn't like she had enough on her plate already, and he was just burdening her with more with his actions. The logical side of him tried to reason with him, that he was being irrational again, but his mind was too much in turmoil to calm down as he curled into the sofa. The door handle twisted.

'No, its alright,' He chuckled darkly in his mind. It was not alright, but he had to convince himself of that before the irrational thoughts flooded him again. 'She can do what she wants, she has no obligations to me. This is just my insecurities, everything will be fine.' He reasoned with himself.

Just before he could take a breath to calm his nerves, however slight it would have helped, he felt a pair of lips pressed against his cheek, and heard a small 'thank you' before a gust of air grazed against his slowly burning face.

* * *

The news featured the woman who saved the plane just a few minutes after Kara left, and a smile crept its way up onto his face when he recognised the outfit that she wore. A knock on the door followed by her familiar voice calling from the outside prompted him to get up. The door swung open to reveal her disheveled form. Her clothes were ruffled and her hair was in a mess, but a goofy grin adorned her face when she saw him, and he could only vaguely smell smoke lingering on her.

She flung herself at him, and he could feel his bones creaking as her super strength was unrestrained in her excitement, but she let go as soon as she heard the sound of bones straining under the force. A sheepish expression graced her features as a hand tucked loose hairs behind her ear. "Sorry." Nervousness permeated the air between them as they recalled the intimate act that had occurred before. He shuffled on the spot when he realised just how close they were. She took a step closer to him, almost as if she could sense how jittery he felt.

"So…" He spoke up, feeling the need to speak, but he trailed off, and a smirk worked its way onto her flushed face.

"So?" She teased him with a blushing face, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was painfully aware of her warm breath began tickling his neck, and of how her eyes were half lidded and staring into his own. His tongue ran across his suddenly dry lips.

"This is revenge for not realising what you were trying to say at the pier isn't?" He tried to jest, but she nodded to his surprise. She didn't bother waiting for a response, and leaned forward, capturing his lips with her own. Any sounds of shock were muffled, and he found himself reciprocating the warm embrace.

They broke the kiss while gasping for air, but neither released the other from the hug. He could smell the distinct taste of burnt soot in his mouth, but the euphoria of the kiss made it muted.

"So I guess we're a thing now?" She hummed, and rested her forehead against his own.

"Do you want us to be a thing?" Her voice also held an identical tone of tense hesitance, and he could feel her body tensing up.

"Honestly? Yeah." He didn't want to lie, and when the words left his lips, her face lit up with the luminosity of a thousand suns, and it made his next words stuck in his throat. "I like you." He could feel his cheeks warming up, but when he saw the smile on her face grow below her flushed cheeks, he didn't regret admitting it. Her blush grew in intensity when he kept staring at her with a smile, and she buried her face in his neck in embarrassment. The muffled reply reverbed into his chest, and warmed his palpitating heart.

The need to ask her if she really loved him rose within him, but he pushed it back down. They knew each other for more than a year, and had enough experience with each other to fall for each other, a voice in his head pointed out, rejecting the smaller echo in the depths that tried to interject with pessimism.

His emotions decided to speak up when Kara leaned in for another kiss.

'Just shut up and enjoy the moment you idiots.'


End file.
